


The Phoenix Circle

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dimension Travel, F/M, Fem!Harry, Female!HP, Multi, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-15 23:10:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7242634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one could believe it. It baffled the entire Wizarding World. No one could understand how such a twisted thing could have happened. </p><p>Tom Riddle and Gellert Grindewald, the two darkest wizards in known existence, reincarnated as eleven-year-old boys; plus Hariel Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived and the savior of the Light, in the same roof of Hogwarts. </p><p>Albus Dumbledore would've fainted at the thought, but then here it was now, under the roof of his own school. </p><p>Merlin save them all.</p><p>[<b>DISCLAIMER:</b> The original idea is not mine but Tsuke Yuki's, heavily based and inspired from their work "Phantasy". </p><p>Some of the ideas in this story are not my own, while some others are in fact mine. If you have any inquiries in which who ideas owns what, please PM me.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Unexpected Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A disgruntled Tom Riddle banished to his own personal Hell gets two new visitors.

❝ There is simply nothing worse than knowing how it ends. ❞  
— **The Calendar, Panic! At The Disco**

 **01** | _an unexpected visit_

 **TOM HAS ALREADY** **SEEN** his fair share of plenty of mind tricks and illusions in his time in his own personal version of Hell after his defeat, so when the door to his orphanage room suddenly knocked (for the first time since his miserably boring time here), he didn't really bother reacting that much.

"You have a visitor." Tom rolled his eyes at the black-hooded figure as the door opened. Isn't that much obvious?

What surprised him, however, was the sight of a teenaged of a teenager with curly and well-maintained blonde hair, paired with light blue eyes.

It took him a while to properly place who this man was. His eleven-year-old self blinked in surprise at the sight.

And then he found himself laughing. 

Then, turning to the second visitor, he had to loudly laugh as well, shaking his head in bitter mirth this time. Harry Potter (looking like he was in his ripe age of mid-fourties) stood at a replica of his orphanage room's doorway, arms crossed with a light smile on his face.

"Come to gloat, then?" Tom said, settling himself more comfortably on the side his bed. This would be a rather fun conversation.

Grindewald scoffed, a wide, almost mocking smile on his lips. "This is the infamous Lord Voldemort?"

"The very one," he said, a mischievous glint in his _Avada Kedavra_ eyes. "You're lucky you saw him when he was young, though—what he was as Lord Voldemort was not a pretty sight."

Tom narrowed his eyes at them, now a bit annoyed if not pissed off. "Pardon?"

The blonde nodded in understanding. "Snakelike," he inputted in. He had a noticeable accent, Tom noticed, that sounded like it would deprive from German or Russian. You'd think that being in hell for decades would change your accent in someway.

Grindewald gave him a quick approving look. "You look much more better like this, Riddle."

Tom blinked, twice. "Is this your version of gloating?" he quickly demanded before they could somehow insult him again. How insulting, thinking he'd be childish enough to be upset over his facial features.

The blonde had to laugh. "Alright, enough of this kind of talk," Grindewald said, waving his hand around. "Death, please leave us."

"Yes, master," Death's ragged and croaky voice said as he started to leave, and Grindewald seemed to light up like those obnoxious Christmas trees that Tom absolutely hated in delight at the title.

"To cut everything short," Potter hastily added in as Tom watched the cloaked skeleton obediently float out of the room, "the Wizarding World will be in the brink of extinction after some decades after your so-called downfall because of a series of worldwide wars against the muggles, when they soon discover our world and our magic. Each past life I've had, the war always starts at the same time, and each time I've had some powerful Light wizards to help. But then I thought, 'I've never really tried powerful Dark wizards before', so this is sort of a scrapping the bottom end of bucket thing."

Tom found himself rapidly blinking, quickly focusing on their now not-so-fun conversation. "Wait a second, there's a war against the _muggles_ —"

"And Harry Potter, also known as the Master of Death here," Grindewald gestured towards the Chosen One, "has been given the task of finding two other powerful wizards to aid him on his journey to save wizardingkind."

He grinned widely, showing a set of pearly white teeth that looked almost predatory. "So he chose me and you, Tom. A brilliant choice, may I add."

Tom scowled. Oh, of course. " _You're_ the Master of—?"

"Questions about that later," Potter interrupted once again, causing Tom's scowl to go deeper. "What we really need to discuss now is wether you agree to come with us or not. We're saving an entire race of magical beings here, _plus muggles_."

He put a lot of emphasis on that, which Grindewald had to roll his blue eyes at. Tom had to pause then growl loudly, however.

"Why bothering with helping filthy muggles when they were the one that caused this?!"

Potter grimaced at this. "Believe it or not, but not all muggles in existence are at fault for this. We can still save new generations of muggles, help them understand us. And maybe—just maybe—we can co-exist with them, with them knowing what we are and what we stand for."

Tom opened his mouth to argue, but Potter continued, the brat.

"Plus, old magical families are already dying. Each muggleborn is an entirely new generation of wizards and witches. If we kill of muggles and muggleborns, soon enough, magic will die out from humankind. I mean, I've lived at least twelve lives so far, and only on the seventh one did I at least get a taste of saving everything before it all somehow crumbled down again."

This time, Tom had finally shut up. The thought of magic dying out each passing generation... He licked his lips anxiously, an action that was unlike him. It gave him fearful chills, undoubtedly. As power-hungry as he was, he wouldn't be the same without his magic.

"If you agree, all of us would be reborn into a different dimensional plane from where we all died, but with the same circumstances still, and also the fact that we'll all wake up as eleven years old in this orphanage—" Tom snorted exasperatedly at this, "that's always been a starting point since my reincarnations started—it's called St. Clemmens, by the way—and then we'll all go to and complete Hogwarts together, obviously at the same year.

"There's also the chance that this war is always gonna happen, no matter what we do, so we'll have to prepare our generations for it. We have to remember that the muggle government would later overrule our government, because they would threaten us with technology that would harm us beyond we would think. They would start collecting our wands, snapping them, then they would sell us slaves or test subjects. I've seen it myself, and let me tell you, it is not a pretty sight."

Here, Potter deeply grimaced, and Tom was struck with the thought that Potter's eyes looked like he's been through his own personal hell and back. It was the expression of an old and retiring solder, going through memories of war.

Then again, that is technically true... Tom couldn't help but mirthless chuckle internally at that. Why was he making untactful remarks in his head _now_?

"We could start a revolution, encourage people to start learning wandless magic more—just in case. I've that before, as well. Maybe give out signs, mention it when we get interviewed by newspaper companies, start a secret club against it even during the school, because hey, starting early is a good thing—" Potter casually shrugged, like starting an illegal defense club was no matter, "all of those sorts."

Potter paused and he sat on the edge of his bed, letting him take a moment to sink everything in. The bed creaked in protest against his weight, while his expression suddenly grew solemn yet sincere.

"We really need your help, Tom."

Tom fixed his steely gaze upon the two of them, his brilliant mind going through hundreds of miles per hour. He didn't necessarily trust Potter, even if Gellert Grindewald was there. Even then, why would Potter trick him? Everything about him screams sincerity. And how could he trust him so easily about such an important task?

Of course, he could just run around and play around in the mortal realm... But no doubt Death would be watching their progress—plus, he was extremely annoyed by the simple existence of his soul and being, for giving him so much trouble with his scattered remains of his souls. He would send him back down here in a snap of his fingers if he even set one toe down the wrong path. And frankly, he didn't enjoy his time down here at all. The mortal realm would certainly be a fresh breath of air, if he even cared about that now.

He pursed his lips, a daring thought suddenly popping up in his brilliant mind.

"And why, my child, would you choose me?" He tilted his head to the side, watching the Potter boy with a calculating gaze. "Why, with the knowledge you have that I have strong feelings against muggles, no matter how convincing your argument is, would you dare scrape so low?"

Potter smiled tightly, no doubt upset about the name calling. "I don't really have a choice, Riddle, and neither do you. And besides, if this fails, I'll always get the chance to find another one to help me with this."

He paused, hesitating. "And I guess you can consider it as a chance to redeem yourself."

And so, Tom Riddle sat there on his troubled childhood bed, throwing his head back and _laughing_.

By Merlin, the Golden Boy was right. He really didn't have anything else to do, anyway, being stuck here in Hell and all. And he was awfully fond of his magic, as well—he despaired at the thought of future generations not being able to experience the thrill of having such power.

And preventing a war, as well... If that backfired, then they could fight alongside this war, and no doubt they would win. He would be a hero.

He felt an old pang of ambition hit him, something he haven't really felt for what felt like eternity. He would be famous and known for hundreds if generations. Admittedly, it would be worth bothering with for a while, even if it's only in one dimensional plane.

Finally, Tom shook his head, still somewhat laughing under his breath. "You realize how utterly ridiculous this is, right?"

"Like I said—it's a scrapping at the bottom of the bucket thing, here."

"And you really don't care how people would react about this arrangement on the mortal plane?"

Potter breathed in, then let out a great sigh. "It's for their own sake."

Tom laughed again. Even Grindewald was looking a bit creeped out now. "Ah, this is _utterly_ delightful. How ironic, really. I can't believe you've reached so low yet so farfetched."

Grindewald was shaking his leg impatiently the whole time. "Alright, enough laughing," he snapped with his subtle German accent. "Are you accepting this or not?"

At this, Tom snorted, not quite shaking out of his mirth just yet. "A choice of staying here in this hellhole, or tormenting old Dumbledore and his idiotic light followers? You really had to ask?"

Potter just rolled his eyes, now looking a bit cross—but nonetheless, he felt relieved and a bit pleased. "Don't start now, Riddle. Now, we need to start thinking for our backgrounds and how we met all that, because there's no doubt that people will start questioning our so-called friendship..."

Tom considered this statement for a bit, as he watched the Chosen One (the sole survivor of the Killing Curse, also known as the _Master of Death_ ) launch into plans of saving the entire Wizarding world from impending and inevitable doom from war from the muggles, together with the two greatest Dark Lords in existence.

He had to snort at this image. Fucking ridiculous, how things have turned out.

* * *

"So, Harry Potter," Grindewald started conversationally after hours and hours of discussion, leaning his face towards the window of his orphanage room, "how you ever been female at least once in your past lives?"

"Oh, yeah, every once in a while." He nodded, watching as Tom Riddle slept from the other side of the room on his bed. "They were a lot more difficult to manage, though. I've been female for around one-thirds I've been going back. First time was a great shock."

Grindewald paused, looking back at the contemplating Master of Death. "So there's a possibility that we might wake up tomorrow in this starting point orphanage you mentioned and see you as a girl?"

Harry Potter shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "Yep."

"Huh." The blonde Dark Lord paused to try and imagine it. Eh, not that hard to imagine, really, with Harry Potter's rather short and thin figure. He looked like an awkward teenager, even in his fourties.

Grindewald dismissed the idea as he quickly grew uninterested. He then paid more of his attention on the window, once again appreciating how the sunlight felt against his skin.

This feeling's way more important to him, after all.


	2. Terrible Coincidences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The newly formed Terrible Trio gets to the Hogwarts Train, and gets themselves into trouble before even getting to school.

❝ But you will remember me, remember me for centuries. ❞  
— **Centuries, Fall Out Boy**

 **02** | _terrible coincidences_

 **A RATHER DISTRESSED** **MINERVA** McGonagallburstsuddenlyinto the Albus Dumbledore's office, her wrinkled face tightening because of her horrified expression.

"Headmaster," she started, eyes wide, "I just found something rather... upsetting."

Dumbledore paused in his student file ordering immediately, and he looked up to meet her gaze. "Ah, Minerva," he greeted her warmly with a friendly smile, hoping to calm her at most of his ability. "Has the student mailing gone well?"

"Nevermind that, Albus," Minerva dismissed him frantically. "I originally wanted to visit to inform you that Hariel Potter will be coming to school this year—"

"Which is most excellent," he added in, blue eyes behind half-crescent moon glasses twinkling.

"But Albus," she suddenly lowered her voice close to a whisper, "I also discovered the identity of two other students coming this year, as well." Her voice wavered, close to breaking. "You'll understand why I had to come to you."

And with that, she hurriedly dropped three envelopes on his desk like they were bombs threatening to explode.

Giving Minerva a discreet strange look, Dumbledore picked up the envelopes and glanced at the names written behind them. Almost instantly after he read them, his grip loosened in startling shock. The letters clattered back on his desk.

"Albus," Minerva said worriedly, seeing her headmaster's flabbergasted expression, "is this— _can this even be possible_?"

Albus Dumbledore, for the first time since she had known him, could not answer her.

* * *

The London train station was bundling with movement the moment three kids of the same age stepped in. The most eager one had curly blonde hair styled almost expertly, paired with light blue eyes that seemed to twinkle in excitement.

"Hurry up, you guys!" the blonde, also known as Gellert Grindewald, shouted to the two of his companions as he pushed along a cart filled with bags and strangely enough, a cage with a snuggly sleeping black cat.

The one the followed him immediately was a girl, shorter than most people. But what made up for her petiteness was her startling green eyes, which most insisted is the color of emeralds (whilst the other companion called Tom would insist is the color of _Avada Kedavra_ ). Her appearance was also made up of her shoulder-length dark red hair and the constellation of freckles that danced along her skin, hidden by dull-grey colored hand-me-down orphanage clothes.

The last companion, however, was not so eager to follow the other two, choosing to follow at a safe distance. Pale blue eyes, curly hair parted neatly, pale skin, plus handsome features and a straight posture, you'd instantly assume that this young man was the son of an important person.

"I'd rather not strain myself immediately before we even board the train, thank you very much," he drawled, pushing along a similar cart filled with his baggage as well—except he had no pets, for he thought that he had no need for one.

The girl rolled her eyes at him, giving him a look afterwards. "Riddle, you better lower down being a prick before we even board the train, too."

Tom Riddle scowled at the girl, but he just chose to ignore her and the hooting laughter that just shot out from Grindewald, narrowing his gaze instead at the snowy owl named Hedwig at the girl's own cart that stared at him defiantly in return.

"Are you really going to bring a _guitar_ to Hogwarts?" the girl said towards Grindewald, eyeing the guitar that was practically the size of him that was hanging behind his back a bit weirdly.

He just shrugged, pausing his cart to sit down on a nearby bench. "It brings me a lot of memories. You can't blame me."

"So," Grindewald started to change the conversation, making himself comfortable as his other two perched himself down as well, "do we go through the barrier immediately, then?"

Hariel Potter shook her head, her eyes darting from left to right as she scanned her surroundings from behind her thin-framed, circular glasses. "We need to make some friends, and I always try and become friends with the Weasleys. It sometimes doesn't work, but I always try." She shrugged stubbornly. "They'll be in the station any minute now."

Tom curled his lips uncertainly. "Ginger hair, bloodtraitor family, known for universally always being sorted in Gryffindor?"

"And also known for being rather poor?" Grindewald added in with some interest.

Harry grinned. "Wow, but yeah. That's the one."

"Well," Tom started begrudingly, his gaze elsewhere, "if I'm correct, then they're here right now."

Immediately, Hariel jumped up off her seat with a happy grin and pushed her cart along towards a large family, all with reddish hair. The two boys gave each other a look, one with boredom and the other with amusement, before following as well. By the time Tom and Gellert had pushed through the crowd to join her (to Tom's struggle and disdain), the portly woman that looked like the mother was already giving her directions.

"You just go straight through that pillar, dear," she told her with fondness in her eyes, clutching a female redhead's with her hand that was eyeing the barrier depressingly. "You can do it before Ron does. He'll be in your year, I think."

Harry gave an almost shy smile towards a nearby lanky redhead, who hesitantly returned it. Meanwhile, Tom and Gellert stood at her left and at her right with mixed levels of interest, one definitely more than the other. As they watched Ron vanish through the barrier, a spark of awe and nostalgia went through the three of them.

"Are these your friends, dear?" Mrs. Weasley said, eyeing the two boys beside her. Harry nodded in response. "Well, you can introduce each other to the other boys in the train, I suppose. Just run straight at the pillar, dear—yes, that's it."

And with a running start and an almost nostalgic grin, she was gone. Gellert immediately followed as well, but not before giving out a happy string of laughter before disappearing.

"I apologize for my two companions' behavior, madam," Tom said politely, bowing his head slightly. Mrs. Weasley, a bit flustered by the young man's strong manners, waved this off quickly. And with that dramatic flourish, he was off as well.

They soon met again on a shared compartment at the back of the train, when they were quick to discuss what house they would share.

"Slytherin," Tom immediately insisted. Harry and Grindewald did not complain.

In fact, Harry just shrugged, while Grindewald couldn't really care less. "I figured as much. And for when we discuss our plans for you-know-what, they'll be set at the Room of Requirement."

Tom looked her a bit curiously. "How did you come upon that?"

"Long story," she waved him off. "Also, I'm planning on making a broom for our travels—"

The compartment's door slid open, revealing a rather disgruntled Ron Weasley. Tom eyed him critically at the sight of him, scanning him up and down. Shabby robes, a freckled face and red hair. A true Weasley indeed.

"Uh, hey," he greeted weakly, an awkward look on his face. "Sorry. Can I stay here? Anywhere else is full."

Harry offered him a friendly, almost fond smile in return. "Sure."

* * *

Hermione had always thought herself as the type that did not poke at other people's business, nevermind how many times she had been proved of this wrong. But when she had barged in a particular compartment in the train towards Hogwarts during a search for Neville Longbottom's toad, she could just not help herself.

"Have you guys seen a toad?" she immediately said with practice, making sure to keep her voice clear and polite. "Neville's lost one."

The first thing she noticed was a curly blonde boy about the same ages as her that was pressing his face against the glass, watching the passing scenery with a mixed expression of fondness and amazement. And for some reason, he had a guitar near him as well, propped up against him lazily.

The other two boys in the compartment were a wavy-haired pale boy with a bored look on his rather handsome face as his eyes flickered from left to right on a book, and a freckled redhead with some dirt on his nose with an expression of awe, both of which were tall-looking and seemed like about her age as well.

The last occupant, however, was a girl with a darker and richer shade of red compared to the redhead boy across her for her hair, plus bright green eyes behind circular glasses. And then Hermione noticed that she had her wand out.

Her interest skyrocketed immediately at the sight. "Oh, you're doing magic?" she blurted out, and she promptly placed herself on the seat beside her. "Well, let's see it then."

The girl blinked, then sharing an unsure look with the redhead boy across her. "Well, sure—if you insist." She shrugged.

And with that, she waved her hand around with a swish and a flick.

" _Wingardium leviosa_ ," she stated with unwavering confidence, pointing at a stray box of beans. And instantly, the box levitated in the air and around the compartment.

Hermione felt a swooping sensation on her stomach as she watched with fascination and awe, her expression matching the redhead boy across her. The pale boy was too busy reading from behind a think leather-bounded book Hermione had never seen before.

"That was brilliant!" the redhead congratulated her, his face bright. Regardless of the dirt on his nose, Hermione couldn't help but agree with him.

"That was the levitating charm, wasn't it?" Hermione insisted, in which the girl nodded. "You must be really good to be able to get it right for your first try—well, if it _is_ your first try."

The girl frowned slightly before awkwardly shrugging. "Uh—yeah, it was, sort of."

The blonde from the window glanced back at us, coughing slightly, before muttering, "Show off."

"Hey, you'd do the same thing," the girl sang out, casually wrapping her arm around his shoulders. "You'd probably cast a solid Patronus and make it run around the entire train, in fact."

The pale boy scoffed from behind his book (if he was reading his book then, he definitely isn't now) as the redhead looked a bit confused. The blonde, however, grinned almost sheepishly. "Aw, Harry, you know me too well."

"I'm sorry— _Patronus_?" Hermione had to ask. She had read and memorized both the first and second year edition of spells and she had never heard of that. She was afraid she had accidentally missed a whole section of spells or something like that.

Harry just waved her off, pocketing her wand somewhere in her dreary clothes. "It's a spell for the older levels. You didn't miss anything for our year, don't worry."

If Hermione wouldn't still be confused, she would've blushed because she had comforted her spot on about what was troubling her. However, she had to ask more questions to quench her curiosity. "What does a Patronus do?"

She shared a look with the pale boy and the blonde. "You'll find out sooner or later."

Hermione frowned in disappointment, but she didn't bother pushing it. "Er, alright," she muttered. "Oh! My name is Hermione Granger, by the way."

"Hariel Potter," she grinned. "But you can just call me Harry, everyone does."

"Are you really?" she blurted out before the others could introduce themselves. "You're on _Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ , you know—Oh," she stammered out when they shared an amused look, "sorry, continue on."

"Ron Weasley," the redhead said between mouthfuls of his candy. Hermione wrinkled her nose at him.

"Pleasure," she muttered. The pale boy didn't say anything at all.

The blonde shot up to his feet gracefully and grabbed her hand, then pressing his lips upon her knuckles as the standard pureblood greeting. "I'm rather charmed," he said as he straightened, offering her flushed face a bright smile. "But you'll know my name soon enough. They announce our names when we get to Hogwarts, see."

Hermione stammered, retracting her hand back as her entire face steamed. "Er—"

"Wait, do they?" Ron frowned, asking him before Hermione had the chance to compose herself. "Why?"

The blonde shrugged, and he settled himself back on his seat. "I can't really tell you, whoops."

Harry snorted without an explanation, kicking her legs back and forth from her seat. "Sorry about him. You can just call him Gellert for now. He's originally from Germany, if you couldn't tell." She pointed at the pale boy. "And you can just call him Tom."

"I'd rather you don't call me at all," Tom muttered from behind his book. Ron inched away from him a bit.

Harry ripped open a candied wand from its wrapper and started chewing on it with an indifferent look. "Don't mind him," she excused Tom hastily, shrugging, "he's always like that."

Hermione rose her eyebrows at everyone. Each of them seemed to have a world of their own. "Uhm, o—of course," she said, a bit unsure about her current company. "But I best be going, then. If you find a toad, please do tell me or find someone named Neville about it." All of them made some form of agreement—except for Tom, of course, who probably couldn't care less and just sat there and continued reading his book.

Hermione stood up and made a move to leave the compartment, but then paused when a thought that bugged her the whole time came to her.

"Oh, and by the way," she turned towards Ron, a slightly disgusted expression on her face as she reminded him, "there's some dirt on your nose." She turned towards the others. "Have a good day then, I guess."

The last thing she had heard from that compartment since was a sudden sprout of childish laughter. Back at the close-to-chaotic compartment, Ron blushed in embarrassment as Hariel giggled and Grindewald laughed at his distraught face. He begrudgingly tried to rub the stubborn dirt of his nose then.

"Nice of her to finally say it to him," Grindewald mused. Ron gaped at all of them.

"You noticed the whole time and you didn't bother telling me?"

Harry shrugged, grinning carelessly. "It would be quite rude to say that, you know. We like our manners."

"It's also rude to not—"

Suddenly, the compartment slid open once again, alerting their attention towards the newcomer. Instead of Granger, however, it was three boys—the middle had blonde hair slicked back with confident grey eyes, with two troll-like boys about the same ages as all of them. They were all immediately struck with the thought of the two being the middle's bodyguards.

He must've noticed them eyeing the two bodyguards, because he started introducing them. "Crabbe, Goyle," he said, gesturing towards each of them.

"I heard that Harry Potter's on the train," the middle announced cockily, then swiftly turning his eyes towards the one reading the book trying to ignore everything. "That must be you, then?"

The boy gave him one glance with raised eyebrows before returning back to his book, like he wasn't even worth his time.

"Actually," the redheaded girl spoke up before he could make some sort of offended retort, "that'd be me."

An immediate look of confusion came across the boys' features. "But—" he sputtered out disbelievingly, eyes wide, "you're a _girl_."

Harry frowned, being reminded once again by the sly trick Death had given her for this dimensional plane. "I know I am. People thought I was boy because of my nickname, I guess." She gave him a daring look. "Is there a problem with being a girl?"

He gave her a quick scan-over as he avoided the question, not quite sure whether to believe her or not. "Prove it. The scar?"

With an exasperated sigh, she shifted her hair to the side, revealing the oh-so-famous lightning bolt scar above her reddish left eyebrow. She covered it up instantly after.

He straightened instantly. "You shouldn't be hanging around with company such as," he looked around the compartment with a sneer, " _these_. If you come with me, I'm sure I can show you more comfortable people."

Tom scoffed in disbelief. Ron immediately took offense as well. He made a face at him. "And who are you to say that?"

The blonde looked at Ron with a disgusted look. "Scruffy red hair, hand-me-down clothes..." He scoffed. "You must be a Weasley."

He looked at the two other boys in the compartment—one with sharp looks with hair like the sun who was looking at him with an amused expression, and the other with a bored expression and pale blue eyes.

"I can't tell who _you_ _two_ are," the cocky blonde said snidely.

"Tom Riddle," the boy with pale eyes said offhandedly, giving him a critical look.

The blonde offered a bright and toothy smile, almost sarcastic. "No one important."

He sneered. "Riddle? You two must be _Mudbloods_."

Ron's jaw dropped, eyes bugging out if their sockets in outrage. "YOU—"

" _Ron_ ," Harry reprimanded him, and she shook her head even when he gave her a disbelieving look.

Tom gripped his book tightly to a point where his knuckles turned white, while Grindewald concealed his laughter under his hand.

"Again," Ron said through gritted teeth, extremely irritated now, "who're you to say who Harry hangs out with?"

He smirked, then offering a hand to shake towards Harry's direction. She looked at it tentatively. " _Malfoy_ ," he introduced himself rather confidently. "Draco Malfoy."

Tom narrowed his icy gaze at him, but he decided to stay silent. So, this is the son of Lucius Malfoy?

Harry gave Malfoy an almost sad look, but it went as quickly as it came. "I can choose my own friends," she said, but shook his hands regardless. "But thanks for the offer."

Malfoy gave her a shocked look, before it quickly went to outraged. "But what about them?" He gestured rather furiously towards Tom and Grindewald. "You should never hang out with people like _mud_ —"

"Watch it!" Ron yelped, his face horrified.

Tom Riddle quickly stood up, the lights flickering slightly in his strong annoyance. For a moment, his eyes flashed crimson red so quick Malfoy would later insist to himself that it was a trick of the light. But what brought his attention, however, was the drawn wand pointed right at him.

"You wouldn't continue that sentence if I were you," he said softly, but his eyes said the opposite—they were a frozen fury that froze him to Draco's core. A wave of fear overcame him like a sinking ship to a strong storm.

Harry bolted to her feet quickly, and she raised her wand raised as well, but towards the irritated boy. "Tom." There was a warning in her voice that he quickly dismissed. Ron pressed himself back on his seat, unsure of what to do but to let them handle this themselves.

Grindewald watched the entire scene play before, amusement clear to his features. He has never seen anything this fun for the entire fifty plus years he spent in Hell, so he just sat back and enjoyed the show. Beside Draco, Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles, unaware of the danger in front of them. This action caused Draco to come to his senses, however, and he quickly regained his posture. A flash of anger overcame him.

" _You filthy_ —"

" **That's enough**."

Harry's cold voice froze both of them, but for different reasons. To Draco, it was a threatening hissing noise that escaped her lips, bringing a cool shudder down his spine. To Tom, however, it was a cold promise that she would hex him straight to the St. Mungo's hospital if he caused any trouble before the first day of school even started.

Ron gave a terrified whimper between the dumbstruck silence.

Riddle turned towards Harry, lips set to a straight line and his eyes cold. " **He called us** —"

" **I am aware** ," she hissed back, her eyes flashing and her Parseltongue firm. " **But do not cause trouble already**. **Regain your Slytherin composure,** ** _please_** _._ **Is this not revenge enough**? **Look at him now** , **he is terrified**."

True to her words, Draco Malfoy did indeed look terrified—his entire face had to white, and he looked like he had just seen a ghost. He has read about this before; the language of snakes, which was only hereditary by Salazar Slytherin himself.

What he didn't know before, however, was that the Boy—or rather, the _Girl_ -Who-Lived was a fluent speaker of the legendary language. Hariel _Potter_ , the Girl-Who-Lived, a descendant of Slytherin? Impossible.

And the other boy spoke it, too, Draco realized with a jolt. A chill went through his bones, and he almost shuddered. How come he's never seen him before, then?

"How—" the Malfoy heir stammered out before casting a weary glance towards the entire compartment, now eyeing it like it was a landmine. Finally, he set his jaw. "You better watch your backs." And then he was gone, his two rather confused minions quickly following behind.

If it was a promise or not, he himself wasn't so sure. 


	3. Our New Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Terrible Trio finally sets foot to the Hogwarts.

❝ I know I believe that the light at the end is brighter than it used to be. ❞  
— **Brighter, Patent Pending**

 **03** **|** _our_ _new beginning_

 **A HUMONGOUS MAN LUMBERED** forwards towards the growing crowd, a lamp swinging from his hand that served as a light in the darkness. The train was already spilling off multiple newcomers, forming a crowd.

"Firs' years! Firs' years!" he was calling from under his scraggly beard. "Firs' years, over 'ere!"

Harry shuddered from the night's cold air as she stepped out of the train, followed quickly by a disgruntled Tom and an awed Grindewald. Instead of their usual orphanage outfits, however, they now wore their Hogwarts robes.

After that rather unfortunate spat with Draco Malfoy and his two "trolls", Ron had immediately demanded answers through his pale, freckled face. Harry answered for both of them with just a proclamation that she didn't see the big deal—just that they knew other people didn't understand them except each other.

She had to leave out that part about being able to talk to snakes, though. Ron isn't ready for that part yet.

A few girls giggled at the handsome sight of the two boys donning robes, which Grindewald quickly attended to without any hesitation—he ran a casual hand through his hair, complete with a wink towards their direction.

More delighted giggles followed. Tom just rolled his eyes. 

Harry watched this entire scene with an amused look on her face. "We're still first years, you know," she reminded him. "Be patient."

Grindewald shrugged, dropping his hand back down. "I know."

"Firs' years!" the half-giant man continued to bellow as more of them gathered in front of him.

"Guys, come on," she instructed, and she tugged them towards the giant man.

"Why do they bother bringing lamps if we have magic where we could just have literal floating balls of light?" Tom said as he scowled, eyeing the humongous almost suspiciously. A blonde girl earshot of Tom gave him a look of shock.

"Balls of light?"

Harry snorted as she steered past the question, eyes squinting through her glasses and the dark. "Dunno. But play nice." The next second, she had finally reached him close enough for earshot, she grinned at him as he glanced at her.

"Hey, Hagrid," she greeted him. "Fancy seeing you here." Tom stiffened as a wave of memories crashed down on him, but this went unnoticed by the man named Hagrid. He just smiled from behind his beard.

"Harry! You alright there?" She nodded eagerly. "Righ', firs' years—all of you here? Righ', follow me."

Soon enough, they had reaches the boats, which were parked on the edge of the Great Lake. Tom peered around in the dark, making sure to follow Harry's and Grindewald's pace.

"No more than four each boat!" Hagrid hollered to the crowd of first years. Tom had to frown. So this was what Hagrid's job consisted of?

Trying not to dwell deeper into his thoughts of the past, he followed Harry's footsteps as she boarded a free boat. Surprisingly enough, the other one that had joined the trio was Hermione Granger from earlier, who looked like she didn't really want to join their company. Understandable, as no one would really want to stick around with two Dark Lords. But whatever.

"Hi, Hermione," Harry greeted her as the bushy-haired girl herself down on the boat, an unreadable expression on her face. She just nodded back at her uneasily.

"Everyone' alrigh'? Alrigh'—forward!" And soon enough, the boats moved forward, causing a small squeak of surprise from Hermione.

The Hogwarts castle was truly a sight to behold, especially at night. The seemingly tiny windows shone past the glass and reflected down on the waters, paired with the lamps that hung on each rowing boat. The lake also reflected the blinking stars above the sight, thus giving a magical illusion. People gasped as soon as the image of the Hogwarts castle at nighttime came to view, Grindewald included. Tom had a slightly bittersweet smile on his smile. Harry was eyeing it with fondness.

"This is pretty relaxing," Harry mused aloud some time during the trip, making herself as comfortable as one could on a wooden rowing boat. She paused for a moment as a ridiculous idea struck her. "Hey, Gellert, could you—" She gestured towards the guitar strapped comfortably near him.

He grinned widely in return. "On it." The blonde himself grabbed his guitar from behind him, then setting comfortably in front of him.

Tom sighed. "Here we go," he muttered.

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows at the sight, watching the three of them incredulously. "Er, what are you—"

And soon enough, the entire trip to the castle across the infamous Great Lake was filled with atmospheric music. The students and even Hagrid immediately quieted at the sound, some gasping aloud in pleasant surprise. Harry allowed a pleasant smile to spread across her face, looking back at the view of the castle again.

"Thanks."

"No problem," muttered Grindewald, only paying her half his attention.

"Duck yer heads!" Hagrid suddenly hollered from his own boat at the front, springing them all their attention back to him and Grindewald stopped. Most students ducked just in time to avoid the ivy vines that scattered and fell from an archway. Neville was not one of those people.

"I'm fine," he kept insisting to his boat-mates with a strained smile as he struggled with removing some of the vines off himself. "Honestly, I just want to see Trevor again. Really, I'm fine."

"...You should try and keep a good track record, Tom," Harry suddenly said, eyeing Neville's boat with some mild interest.

Tom gave her an incredulous glance, obviously understanding what she meant. "In my own subtle ways, I'd rather."

"Oh, come on," she continued to him, grinning, "give a good first impression."

Hermione looked at both of them, before sighing. "Should I even bother?'

"Don't," Grindewald snorted. "They're always like that—having their own inside jokes or instantly knowing what the other is thinking about with just one look. It's like they're twins."

Harry shared a glance with Tom. Well, if sharing a soul is any different... Tom scowled at the glance. "You owe me, Potter," he muttered (Potter smiled faux-sweetly in return), and he waves his wand around.

" _Accio Trevor_!"

Instantly, the lost bull frog came zooming towards them, and landed rather clumsily on Tom's hand. He released it on contact, and a not-so-subtle disgusted leer formed on his face as it landed on the boat. Harry got a grip on it quickly before it could escape.

"Trevor!" Neville's happy voice called from his boat. Some students laughed.

"You're welcome," Tom said with painfully forced politeness. "I'll give it to you when we land. I'd advice that you don't lose him next time." Harry suppressed a grin from behind her hand, and she watched in amusement as Hermione looked at Tom in poorly concealed awe. She shook her head. Worthy of a true Head Boy...

Finally, the boats reached the shore with a jolt. In command, the students followed Hagrid out of them and into the Hogwarts grounds, some with more grace than the other.

"We're here!" Harry breathed out in awe, memories flying through her as she looked up at the castle.

Tom was staring up at the castle with an ashen face, but no one seemed to notice past the neutral mask beside her. Grindewald was looking around like an excited child, and he could barely conceal an almost maniacal grin from spreading across his sharp features. Harry could see that Malfoy and his gang plus some other students she assumed as pureblood where gathered around, him whispering to them frantically while sometimes flickering his eyes towards Harry's direction.

She frowned a bit at that. No doubt, he was telling his posse about his experience with them earlier. From the looks of their faces, however, they didn't seem to believe his far-fetched claims.

Upon the sixth time, she rose her eyebrows almost condescendingly, as if asking if he would dare. He looked even more paler at that, if that was even possible.

Meanwhile, Hermione looked like she was preparing for a war. She kept muttering several spells and incantations to herself—so quickly, Harry was convinced that she managed to memorize the entirety of this year's spellbook. Eventually, they reached the main entrance door. Students started muttering and whispering to each other anxiously about the supposed Sorting event and what would it be consisting, ideas getting more ridiculous after each one.

"My brother told me that we'd have to fight a troll."

"Dad told me that we'd duel the Headmaster!"

Tom, meanwhile, just stood there almost lazily, towering over everyone quite a bit even at his age. Harry was scanning the students for familiar faces from her past chance, and Grindewald was eyeing up the door, like an architect or a battle strategist.

"Alrigh' everyon'? You there, got yer toad? Alrigh'."

With that note, Harid banged on the gigantic door with his fist loudly. It opened, revealing a strict looking woman with a constant scowl and a tight bun as tight as her features under her witch hat.

"All yers, Professor McGonagall."

She nodded curtly as she faced the students. "Thank you, Hagrid. I'll take them from here."

Hagrid bowed his head slightly and then he lumbered off, the lamp still with him. Malfoy sneered at his back. At the sight of her tightened expression, however, the students quieted down and Malfoy immediately went back to a neutral expression.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," began Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room."

For a while, Grindewald eyeballed her as she began her speech about everything Hogwarts. Then he leaned a bit towards Hermione, and then muttered, "For some reason, she stinks of cat hair."

She shot him a reprimanding look in return before returning back to the Professor, drinking in every word like the students—except for the usual trio, of course, who were doing the same thing they were doing before, plus while looking like they couldn't care less.

People didn't seem to notice this, however, as they were too intent on listening what the Professor had to say.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school." The Transfiguration professor paused to take a breath. "I suggest you all smarted yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Sometimes, though, Harry noticed she would often flicker her gaze worryingly towards Tom and especially Grindewald.

She almost snorted aloud at the sight. Extremely understandable, that... This spurred on a moment for her to wonder what their reactions were like when they first discovered that miniature versions of the two more powerful Dark Lords ever known were going to Hogwarts on the same year.

Finally, after final notices and reprimands (and a bit more of those anxious glances towards the two boys), Professor McGonagal instructed the students to form a line and shuffle in the Great Hall.

Harry's breath would always be taken away at the sight. The Great Hall was beautiful and enchanting at night as always.

"The ceiling is enchanted to look like the sky above it. I read that in _Hogwarts: A History_ ," Harry could hear Hermione whisper to someone, and she couldn't stop from cracking a grin from remembering the first time she had said that to her.

Older faces of the seated students peered down at them from their tables, some waving in a friendly manner, in which some returned reluctantly. Their ashen faces glowed under the candle lights that floated around them, giving everyone a waxy effect. Some where more confident than others.

Peering up at the Staff Table, several professors sat there in front of their plates anxiously. Some tapped their fingers on the table, the others shaking their legs underneath the table. Some chose to stay stoic-faced under their whirlwind of emotions, however, namely Severus Snape.

Harry felt a slight pang of guilt for giving them such distress, and she grimaced. She would bet dozens of galleons that she absolutely knew the reason why they looked so anxious, and that reason would be beside her right now.

She mentally shrugged. _Oh, well_. She was doing this to save everyone's lives, anyway.

On the middle, however, was a calm looking Headmaster named Albus Dumbledore, his long and white beard shining against the waxen candlelight. He had lost the magical twinkle in his eyes, though, and they looked sunken and almost stressed. With another grimace, she thought about how she could only imagine the inner turmoil he must be feeling right now.

 _Speaking of_...

She gave a glance at Grindewald. He was looking down at the floor, his fists twitching. She gave him a sharp nudge from her elbow, then shooting him a look.

"Calm down," she muttered under her breath, pertaining only him to hear. "Don't look so upset."

The usually care-free blonde thinned his lips into a line, but nodded once anyway as he then faced forward. Dumbledore suddenly rose from his seat, spreading his arms warmly. The Great Hall immediately silenced.

"Newcomers," he started with a grim smile, "welcome to Hogwarts. To those who have already attended last year—welcome back! I have a few announcement to make after the Sorting, so please do stick around for that. But before that, please welcome our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Quirell."

The shaking man gave a meek bow towards the politely clapping audience before setting himself back on his seat, still shaking. Harry and Tom frowned at the same time at the sight.

"Do you think—"

"No." He shook his head. "It happened after this, if I could remember. I'm not entirely sure myself."

She pursed her lips. "That's bad. I honestly forgot about him."

Grindewald shot the two a curious look. "What—"

Tom shook his head slightly. Harry gave him an apologetic look, promising him, "Later."

The Transfiguration professor placed a familiar Sorting Hat on a wooden stool that stood in front of the staff table. Then, a seam ripped open to form a mouth (some students gasped in horror).

Then, to the glee of Grindewald, the hat started to sing.

 _Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_  
_but don't judge on what you see;_  
_I'll eat myself if you can find_  
_a smarter hat than me._

 _You can keep your bowlers black,_  
_your top hats sleek and tall,_  
_for I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_  
_and I can cap them all._

 _There's nothing hidden in your head_  
_the Sorting Hat can't see,_  
_so try me on and I will tell you_  
_where you ought to be._

 _You might belong in Gryffindor,_  
_where dwell the brave at heart,_  
_their daring, nerve, and chivalry_  
_set Gryffindors apart;_

 _You might belong in Hufflepuff,_  
_where they are just and loyal,_  
_those patient Hufflepuffs are true_  
_and unafraid of toil;_

 _Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_  
_if you've a ready mind,_  
_where those of wit and learning,_  
_will always find their kind;_

 _Or perhaps in Slytherin_  
_you'll make your real friends,_  
_those cunning folks use any means_  
_to achieve their ends._

 _So put me on! Don't be afraid!_  
_And don't get in a flap!_  
_You're in safe hands (though I have none),_  
_for I'm a Thinking Cap!_

Everyone applauded for the Sorting Hat's song, the first years following while some did reluctantly. Harry (just for the heck of it) and Grindewald applauded rather enthusiastically, while Tom, ever the more mature one, clapped his hands politely.

"When we call your names," Professor McGonagal started suddenly, silencing everyone after a for seconds, "come forward."

Thus, the tentative Sorting that had worried the entire staff table for half of their summers has begun. Harry had to suppress a mischievous grin. This is gonna be fun.


	4. The Sorting Ceremony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio gets sorted, and Severus Snape feels himself getting grey hairs.

❝ No, I don't want to hate you, but you should have never gone to The Man. ❞  
— **The Man, Ed Sheeran**

 **04 |** _the sorting ceremony_

 **SEVERUS SNAPE WAS** **AN** irrational man, by all means.

Everyone around him knew this fact—even he himself admitted it because it was that obvious.

For example: when Albus Dumbledore suddenly warned every professor he had in Hogwarts about two first year students that would be coming this year, Severus thought that the old man was finally turning senile. What could two little boys do so badly that he would have to warn us in the middle of summer break?

Dumbledore was so disturbed by them, that he personally came to our homes and told us their names, and then gave us pictures that looked like they were taken by muggle cameras.

The first boy looked innocent enough. He was named Tom Riddle, he was raised in an orphanage named St. Clemmens' Orphanage. Based on his last name, he was most probably a muggleborn, but he could also be a half-blood from his mother's side. He had pale blue eyes, and dark brown, wavy hair, with handsome, aristocrat features—even as an eleven-year-old. He was birthed at the 31st of December, and most importantly to him, looked like he was bored half the time he existed. Severus empathized with this greatly.

But the second little boy made Severus Snape hesitate.

Gellert Grindewald.

A case of unfortunate name, was the most realistic reason, of course. But the unpleasant part was that Dumbledore insisted that he looked exactly like the actual Dark Lord when he came to check on the orphanage he apparently came from. Coincidentally, the same orphanage Tom Riddle resides in.

Curly blonde hair seemingly styled to perfection and bright blue eyes the shade of the sky, plus sharp features that made it painfully aware that he was of German blood. He even had some of the accent as well still, he was told.

Dumbledore just told us to watch out for them, nothing more than that, which is of course extremely stupid. This Grindewald child was explanable, yes, but what of Tom Riddle? He looked as harmless as any eleven-year-old going through the beginnings of puberty would be, maybe a bit more sarcastic than usual. Perhaps he was more to meet the eye, yes, but what harm could an eleven-year-old boy be to a grown wizard?

Thus, he then came to the conclusion that Albus Dumbledore must be catching up to his old age.

So Severus had to be irritated when all the other teachers looked like Death was about to greet them in their beds when they sleep. Couldn't they even compose themselves for the Opening Feast? Apparently not. But then he reminded himself the second mystery of the night as he caught sight of her, and Severus had to hold back a sneer.

Harriel Potter—more commonly known as Harry Potter and the Boy-Who-Lived.

But the thing was that the first name suggested differently. Harriel was by all means a very feminine name, and when Severus later checked for himself, he was a bit appalled to hear that the Boy-Who-Lived was actually the _Girl-_ Who-Lived.

An unfortunate mistake, but that wasn't the part of her name that Severus Snape focused on. No, no, it was her other name, her last name—her _family name_.

Hariel Lily _Potter_.

Even after years, he could still the hate and bitterness that ran through his vines when he thought about that Potter and his little gang. Taking his ever-so-lovely Lily from him. The image of her corpse that Halloween night was burned into his mind painfully. Even after death, he still loved her. Even when Potter took her from him, he still loved her consistently.

So when he saw that damned child that night, his heart skipped almost skipped. Because dammit, she looked so much like her it hurt.

She had the same vermillion red hair, and even from this distance, he could see the unnaturally bright green staring seemingly straight at him. The same face, the same petite height, the same coloring. She looked exactly like Lily did when she first came into the Sorting Ceremony all those years ago.

But he almost did a double take because no, it didn't have the cheeky liveliness Potter had, or the softness that Lily had. But rather, it was the haunted look that most veterans of war had. It made Severus wonder what kind of things the godforsaken child had seen during her time in the orphanage she was promptly dumped on after the Dursley's refused Albus' offer.

Then, before he knew it, Professor McGonagall started announcing the first years' names.

First came _Abbot, Hannah_ , a shy-looking child with chubby features, who was sorted straight into the badger's nest. Then followed _Bones, Susan_ , a ginger haired shortie filled with all that obvious nerves, who then became a member of the humble house of Hufflepuff as well.

Then, several other names passed. Honestly, the names just blurred through Severus' mind that night; he was too focused at the three he was told to watch out for.

They seemed close-knitted, like they've been through a lot together. They acted like siblings more than anything, honestly, though he could see that Potter and Riddle argued and teased each other quite often. Grindewald looked a bit confused sometimes, too, like he didn't quite know what the two were talking about. Severus couldn't help but wonder the same thing.

The Grindewald boy was announced first of the three. Professor McGonagall actually swallowed before announcing the name, a slight tremor in her voiced as she did.

"Grindewald, Gellert."

The entirety of the Great Hall fell silent in shock. A few people actually screamed. He didn't seem to mind it at all, however, walking over casually then plopping himself on the stool with a charismatic smile towards the shellshocked sea of students.

Somewhere in the crowd of first years, Severus could see Potter giving him a rather enthusiastic thumbs up. He sneered at that. Then, a few seconds later, the hat bellowed rather enthusiastically, "SLYTHERIN!"

The said table just looked at each other in silence, unsure of what to do.

Then, one student suddenly started clapping, and Severus gave a double-take when he noticed that it was Riddle. Then it was followed by Potter. Soon enough, a pretty good percentage of the people clapped along, albeit reluctantly.

"Poor bloke, having that name..."

"I thought it was really him for a second..."

Severus's lips curled. Unfortunate, indeed. The boy didn't seem to be aware of the reaction of his name gave at all, however. In fact, he seemed pleased by it, by all things. He narrowed his dark eyes on him as Minerva moved on to the rest of the first years.

Like he felt his gaze, the boy met his eyes and he gave a sarcastic smile in return, raising a goblet towards him in mock-acknowledgement. Some students gave him questioning looks, but he ignored them all, keeping his eyes trained in his for a few seconds before returning his attention back to the sorting.

Severus thought this action looked a bot ridiculous on the brat, but it still instilled a cold feeling to stir inside his stomach. 

How peculiar.

Finally, after a few more students passed, it was that Potter girl's turn to be sorted.

"Potter, Harriel."

Almost nervously, the girl shuffled up the stairs then towards the stool that held the Sorting Hat as whispers flooded the room. Heads craned upwards as they tried to get a glimpse of the mythical legend.

"Potter? Did she say Potter?"

"The Boy-Who-Lived?" Severus sneered at this. An instant celebrity, it seems.

"No, look—she's a girl!" exclaimed someone, causing the mentioned girl's cheeks to burn up in embarrassment. "She's the _Girl_ -Who-Lived!"

Under her breath, Severus could almost see her mouth move, "No, really?" but he wasn't close enough to be confident of this fact.

The Sorting Hat was then set on her vermillion-haired head. The entire Great Hall seemed to hold their breaths simultaneously as they waited. Some professors even leaned forward in interest. Then, finally, a strangely pleased Sorting Hat announced its decision:

"SLYTHERIN!"

Some people gasped in shocked. Others gaped. Professor stared. The saviour and cause of the defeat of the Dark Lord, in Slytherin? Severus narrowed his eyes as a strangely delighted Harriel Potter scurried over at the House of Snakes, instantly sitting at Grindewald's side.

He clapped her at her back in a friendly way in greeting, and she smiled warmly in return.

Suspicion arose in Severus. So the famous Girl-Who-Lived is friendly with mini-Grindewald, hmm?

The house clapped their hands politely in greeting as well, though some sneered at her direction. Most just looked immensely confused, which Severus understood. The last time a Potter had been sorted in Slytherin was eons ago, by someone named Henry Potter the Second. Meanwhile, the rest of the houses looked severely disappointed, especially Gryffindor.

Severus leaned back on his chair, inspecting the Chosen One as she shook hands with the house's girl prefect, Daphne Greengrass. She looked— _too much_ —like Lily, but she seemed to have the same personality and attitude of Potter.

Severus had nearly scoffed at that thought. How unfortunate.

The rest of the Sorting went by swiftly. Severus only shared any interest until the third student he had to worry finally came to be. Minerva cleared her throat before she announced his name, "Riddle, Tom."

The way the boy moved up to the stool was graceful, and when he finally sat on  it, he somehow seemed to transform  the rickety old thing into a throne. The students were in awe by his unwavering confidence and grace, this much was obvious. 

Finally, the hat spoke again, the voice strangely amused (or was it just Severus' imagination?), "SLYTHERIN!"

Severus leaned back exasperatedly, watching as Potter and Grindewald greeted their third friend—who sat beside them, _of course,_ who _wouldn't_ think the three brats would be friends?—with happy smiles and friendly gestured. 

The three little devils were in the same house. And the house that he was the Head of, of all things.

Severus Snape resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose and groan.

* * *

That night, when the moon was high, their housemates never noticed that three of their most recent students had snuck out of their beds to meet in the seventh floor, inside a hidden room the opposite of a tapestry depicting the attempt of Barnabas the Barmy to teach trolls ballet.

"So, we need to raise a lot of money of we're going to do this properly," Harry explained, listing this on a piece of parchment, sitting cross-legged on the carpeted floor. "I was thinking of making our own company, with a name with something like the Hallows, or something like that."

Grindewald's mouth twitched a bit at the mention of the Hallows. "A bit personal, don't you think?"

Harry frowned, "That's the point."

Tom raised his head at the ceiling like he was calling some higher power from above to help them. The blonde snorted, "No, nevermind. Let's do that, then."

The fireplace warmed them that cold and sleepless night, the embers sparking with green-colored fire. The room was somewhat identical to the Slytherin common room, the only differences that the armchairs and couches were gone, replaced by a wide desk for planning and some comfortable chairs along side with it.

Content, Harry sipped some of her coffee—black, with two cubes of sugar and some cream, just like how she liked it.

"I don't see why you have to turn it into green, of all things," Grindewald suddenly spoke, eyeing the fire like it a was specimen he wanted to pluck separately and study for himself from the armchair he sat in snugly. "I'm not even sure how you did that, but then again, it _is_ magic."

Tom raised an eyebrow at his comment, not commenting on the somewhat vague compliment. "It's celebration. We all managed to get into Slytherin easily."

Harry breathed out a slight laugh at that reminder. "Oh, yeah, the Sorting Hat was all too pleased to finally sort me in Slytherin. Most times I refused, mostly sticking to Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, and there's the occasional Ravenclaw."

Tom nodded curiously. "Is the Sorting Hat usually aware of your situation?"

Harry actually snorted. "Oh, yeah, it really hates me for it. Though, I have wonder if he's either fond of me or actually, genuinely annoyed by my presence."

"Probably both, and I wouldn't blame him with the latter," Grinfewald offered, and Harry let out a small laugh.

Tom scowled. "This talk of you being the Master of Death confuses and bores me. What else can we do this year?"

Grindewald laughed. "You're just jealous, dear Tommy." Tom felt ice seep into his bones at the ridiculous nickname, but the two didn't seem to notice the killer glare sent their way.

"It's not exactly the bet job in the multiverse, you know," Harry insisted with a faint smile. "It's emotionally tiring and a bit repetitive, if you ask."

Grindewald raised his blonde eyebrows. "Oh?"

Harry nodded in response. "I would hand it over to you by a heartbeat, Tom, really—but I'd rather not let the entirety of the multiverse burn to ashes."

Tom rolled his pale eyes as Grindewald laughed.

"Oh, of course," he muttered under his breath, "Now, like I said—what else would we be able to do this year?"

Harry tapped the feathered part of her quill on her chin as she thought. "How about Quirrel? How do we deal with the Voldemort at the back of his head?"

Grindewald widened his eyes. "Quirrel has a sub-consciousness of Tom?"

Tom snorted as Harry waved that (albeit humorous and slightly terrifying) suggested off, "No, I meant it in a literal sense. He literally has a piece of Voldemort growing behind his head like a parasite."

He wrinkled his nose at that. "Oh, that's gross. I wouldn't Tom anywhere near me, honestly."

He cackled out a laugh and dodged as Tom forced a (fortunately empty) bottle of ink at him.

"So how go about dealing with him?" said Harry, a bit breathless by her laughter after everyone had calmed down. "We won't see him until the end of the year, where he'll set off to try and get the Sorcerer's Stone."

"The Sorcerer's Stone?" Grindewald repeated, eyes shining in mirth. "In this school, now? That's a laugh."

"Under some poorly constructed traps that even some weak first years could go pass through," muttered Tom.

Harry snorted. "You're just bitter. But yeah, it really is here. Well, not really... Why, well—it turns out that it's a trap for Voldemort himself. But it isn't actually the real one. An admirable replica, but it won't make you immortal. It'll just do the 'turn things to gold' part. And no, we're not gonna get it for ourselves."

"What?" Grindewald instantly whined, which made Tom cringe. "Why not?"

Harry gave him a rather pointed look—eyebrows raised up, a blunt and obvious look on her face. That shut him up quite successfully.

Tom had to furiously wonder how on earth Grindewald rose to become a Dark Lord which such a childish and weak attitude. Then again, more than fifty years in solitude does things to you... He supposed that the blonde was charming and charismatic in his own special way.

"We'll just burn that bridge when we cross it, I supposed," Harry finally said after a long silence of thinking.

"Burn that bridge when we cross it?" parroted Tom with a curious look on his handsome face. "I've never heard if that muggle phrasing before. It sounds like a modification of the original."

"It means that I'm confident that we'll do something wrong along the way," Harry snorted to herself.

"Ah," Grindewald nodded solemnly. "That's understandable."

Harry tapped his quill repetitively on the table the parchment was on. She had her thinking face on—eyebrows furrowed together, her nose almost wrinkling, her expression concentrated. Tom and Grindewald patiently waited for her to finish her train of thoughts.

"I suppose," she said slowly, "that we could also handle the matter of Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black this year..."

Tom rose his eyebrows. "The cowardly rat and the mutt?"

Grindewald leaned in, interested by what she was planning. She had already informed the both of them of _that_ situation before, so that he wouldn't have to ask so many questions.

"We could handle Regulus Black, as well..." Harry was muttering to herself, hunched over the table and writing along on her parchment as she thought. She paused, then murmuring, "Though, we could just do that on our second year, instead... Yeah."

She finally turned to them. "What do you say about letting Sirius adopt us? So that we don't have to live in that orphanage anymore," she added hastily at their quickly befuddled looks.

Tom froze, before twisting his lips into a firm line. "Deal. Anything to get out of that hellhole."

Grindewald frowned. "What's this Sirius Black like?"

"Oh, you'll love him, I promise," Harry waved him off easily. "You remind me of him most of the time, in fact."

Grindewald's eyes widened. "Oh, yeah, deal. Seal the deal done, my good friend."

"Well, that settles it," she mused. "That means that we have to kidnap an old and mangy rat from Ronald Weasley, you must understand."

Tom scoffed, then saying bitterly, "Anything that would let me permanently leave _that_ hole." The few days they stayed in the orphanage have not been pleasant. The other kids and the matron acted around Tom the same way his old orphanage did, which made some wounds reopen. They somehow thought Harry was just an adorable and pleasantly polite young girl (as they always acted around her during her past lives), and the other kids were jealous of Grindewald's guitar-playing abilities.

A sad smile spread on Harry lips. "Alright." She wrote this down quickly on her parchment. 

"For our first year, we'll cover the brooms, the situation of Sirius Black and Pettigrew, and then we'll cover the issue of Regulus Black on our next year," she read out from the parchment after she finished the final details, just summarizing everything up.

Tom took a glance at her notes. They were messy and sometimes they trailed off from each other. He silently scoffed at it.

"Who's Regulus Black?" Grindewald said with a frown.

Harry just shook her head. "We'll deal with him later—you'll know everything about him when the situation arises." Tom squinted at the notes, barely paying attention to their two's conversation.

" _Threstfall_?" he read out questioningly. "You'll be naming these brooms? And selling them?" He squinted more. "And you'll have your own _copyrighted_ name?"

Harry flushed, bringing the parchment away from the other hastily. "I already told you—we need to make some money in some way!"

Grindewald whistled from over her shoulder, reading them as well. Harry quickly pulled it to her chest as she glared defensively at the two. "You really are a true Slytherin..."

Tom felt himself grow impressed by the Potter girl. "I don't mind the business. Being resourceful is a good trait to have, after all." He hummed. "We'd probably have to be involved with the Ministry in some way or another in the end. Make ourselves a symbol for people to recognize."

Harry suddenly flashed a wicked grin as she suddenly reminded herself of something. "Oh! I also had another idea... See, I drew this symbol the other night before we came here..."

She grabbed a drawing from her moleskin pouch, then laying it flat on the table for all of them to see. It was rather straightforward symbol, where it was a simplified version of a thunder cloud and a single strand of jagged lighting coming from it. A simplified snake was wrapped around the bolt of lighting like a pole, as well.

Tom and Grindewald rose their eyebrows at it.

"What is it?" asked Tom with his voice with thinly-veiled curiosity, peering down at the symbol. Then suddenly, he hissed in annoyance as the realization struck him. "No, wait, nevermind, don't tell me—"

"It's our signature!" She stated proudly (Tom pinched the bridge of his nose at this). "When we make pranks like the second generation Marauders that we are, we'll leave behind this very signature and nothing else. It's extremely obvious who it represents, anyway, so we have no need for names. And it'll be up to the school for what they'll name us."

Grindewald let out a gleeful laugh, remembering the stories Harry had told them about the Marauders that made him laugh to stitches. "That's excellent! I suppose I'll be the thunder cloud, then?"

"And I'll be the lighting bolt, obviously," Harry said, delightfully sniggering along with him. "Then Tom's, of course, the—"

" _Snake_ ," he finished her sentence gravely, "I'll be the thrice-damned snake."

"Excellent!" Grindewald cackled out, eyes shining. "This'll make this seven years all the more fun, I suspect."

Harry flashed a pretty smile. "Oh, of course. And we have to magically charm it so that when someone tries to remove it, it'll be animated—"

"The snake would have to hiss somehow, too," Tom said, admitting to himself that this would be somewhat fun. Of course, he would never admit that aloud, God no. "And I have just the spell for that, too, fortunately for both of you."

"And the lightning bolt would clap out and the cloud would have to rumble—oh, this is absolutely brilliant!" Grindewald cheered, his face bright. "I knew that I wouldn't regret this."

Harry flushed from the indirect praise, though she'd never admit she ever did. "Oh, well—I always did want to try out being like my dad—"

"I could give you some lessons with an ability of mine that I'm particularly fond of, you know," Grindewald suddenly said, his happy voice suddenly turned thoughtful.

Harry paused and tilted her head, not sure if she heard correctly. "Pardon?"

"On how to detect magic and differentiate them from people," he continued, like she wasn't looking at him like he had grown a second head. "I always had that special ability, but it's a bit hard to even have—but to master, that's even harder."

Harry and Tom blinked, letting a few seconds of silent stretch out as they processed his words. "I wasn't aware that people had different types of magic," she said slowly, furrowing her eyebrows. "What are they based on?"

"Oh, several things," he waved her off. "How powerful they are, and their affinity mostly, though there are special cases where their magic is a bit more unique. You can't see them, but it sends signals in your brain that you could almost technically 'see' them."

The effect was instantaneous. Harry perked up from her seat almost immediately, her face lighting up in mild interest. "Teach me."

"Knew it," cackled Grindewald.

Tom clicked his tongue at their immature behavior. "I'll pass myself. As interesting as it sounds, it sounds like a waste of time to me, and it wouldn't do much for me." He paused. "I could probably just teach myself, in fact." He furrowed his eyebrows. "Yes. I'll do that."

Harry scowled. "Yes, well, not everyone's as smart as you, Riddle." She turned to Grindewald. "So yes, you'll have to teach me."

The blonde flashed a bright smile. "Oh, but of course."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **DISCLAIMER:** The brilliant ideas of the Threstfall and the Terrible Trio's symbol is not mine to claim, but Tsuke Yuki's.


End file.
